


Living in the Storm

by flowersheep



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: A nighttime ambush by alien zombies is really the last thing Merlin needs right now, but the world doesn’t seem to have an overabundance of care for Merlin’s needs these days. If it did, he wouldn’t have managed to end up as the first pregnant human in two decades, he wouldn’t be stuck with just Arthur for company, and the aforementioned alien zombie ambush would definitely not be happening.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 Merlin Mpreg! Though there were many wonderful prompts none of them were really speaking to me so this year I used my own prompt:
> 
> Half-Life 2 AU, Merlin/Arthur. For 20 years now Earth has been occupied by the Combine Empire. In order to ensure the eventual eradication of what’s left of the human race following the Seven Hour War, the Combine construct a suppression field that prevents procreation. Following the destruction of the main source of power for the suppression field humanity is able to reproduce for the first time in two decades. Plenty of people are happy to actively participate in the continuation of the human race. Merlin is not one of them. Of course this means he has the honor of being the first pregnant human since the Combine invasion.
> 
> If you have no idea what Half-Life is, never fear. My beta assured me knowledge of it isn't necessary to understand what's going on in the fic.
> 
> Also my beta is an amazing human being and I love them from the bottom of my heart <3333

Merlin woke in a panic, heart pounding frantically against his ribcage and a cold sweat on his forehead. He sat up and scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary. The embers of the dying fire in the old stone hearth gave off just enough light to illuminate the lump on the ratty old carpet that was Arthur, still sound asleep. A smaller lump no more than a foot away indicated where Arthur had dropped his pack before bedding down. Merlin strained his ears for any unusual sounds. Nothing. Just the occasional rustle of leaves as a breeze wove through the trees, the hoot of an owl, Arthur’s snoring. Normal night sounds that indicated they were alone. No Combine. No creatures like the ones that had haunted Merlin’s dreams since he was a child.

He’d dreamed of Ravenholm again. It wasn’t unusual. Merlin had been dreaming about Ravenholm since he’d last set foot in the town as a child. He could still hear all too clearly the sorrowful howls of the creatures, the screams of their victims, the impact of another shell crashing into what was once a safe haven for refugees and the ear piercing shriek of the payload it carried. The smell of smoke from the fires was so strong sometimes he felt like he was choking on it, just as he had on that night so many years ago. Every now and then he woke convinced that he could hear a headcrab scuttling across the floor before he reminded himself that he was being ridiculous. He always took steps to ensure nothing could sneak up on him while he slept, especially not a headcrab.

This particular dream had been even more unsettling than usual. Though the dreams always took place in the streets of Ravenholm, they didn’t always play out the same way. Most often, it happened exactly as Merlin remembered it. His father and a band of resistance members came to find him and took him to Black Mesa East, arriving just in time to avoid being trapped on the wrong side of the heavy reinforced door that permanently sealed the town off. Sometimes they would arrive too late. Sometimes they didn’t even make it to the passageway and sometimes no one came for him at all. Tonight had been different. Tonight it had been Merlin running through the streets of Ravenholm, panicked and searching for a nameless, faceless child. His hands still shook with the fear that he was too late.

Merlin leaned back against the arm of the worn couch and reminded himself that he wasn’t even halfway through his pregnancy. Besides, Ravenholm had been a long time ago. The Combine still had a fondness for using headcrab shells to flush out their enemy, but with the way it had been backfiring on them lately Merlin figured they had to be getting tired of it. They only had so much support now that they were cut off from the Combine homeworld and probably didn't need to lose anymore of their soldiers to the growing zombie population.

With the fear and panic that his Ravenholm nightmares always brought on fading, Merlin tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but the spike of adrenaline that had rushed through his system kept him wide awake. And he wasn’t the only one apparently being affected by the adrenaline, judging by the amount of movement he could feel. Swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, Merlin watched to be sure Arthur was still asleep before getting up. He was as quiet as possible as he pulled on his boots, grabbed his pulse rifle, and went outside. Stacked against the side of the small cabin was a pile of crates and boxes that he used to climb up to the roof where he had as decent a view as possible in the middle of a forest. Nestling deeper into his coat to ward of the cool night mountain air, Merlin settled into his impromptu turn of guard duty. Technically speaking, either himself or Arthur should’ve already been on guard duty. But Merlin was finding pregnancy to be draining on his energy and Arthur was only one person.

That night the sky was clear and Merlin could see billions of distant stars above him. Back in City 17 the light pollution of the vast city had drowned out almost everything. That was certainly one thing Merlin wouldn’t miss about that place, alongside the Combine’s oppressive rule. The war was far from over, but they’d made great strides in recent months, starting with the destruction of Nova Prospekt that had lead to the uprising and eventually the destruction of the Citadel that had been the Combine’s base of operations. It had effectively stranded this branch of the Combine forces here on Earth where the human resistance continued to gain momentum. And now with the suppression field down they didn’t have to worry about going extinct. At least, in theory. Merlin had to admit he was kind of concerned that he was apparently the only one who had ended up pregnant so far. He really hoped there were people in other parts of the world who were doing a better job of “reviving the species”, as Dr. Kleiner had put it, than the former residents of City 17.

An eerily familiar howl sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine. He sat up straight, senses on full alert, praying he’d just been hearing things. Nope, there it was again. Like a wounded animal, crying out for help. Only Merlin knew there was no helping this unfortunate soul. Once the little beige creatures appropriately known as headcrabs had ahold of you it was over. He raised his pulse rifle to look through the scope.

Though the moon was out and the sky clear, the dense forest made it difficult to tell for sure what was out there. Merlin was positive it was a headcrab zombie though. He watched it carefully for a long moment, taking in size and movement and concluding, with relief, that it was just a normal headcrab, not either of the genetically modified versions the Combine had come up with in Nova Prospekt. He could easily snipe it from there and be done with it, but Merlin hesitated. He’d never met just one zombie before. Headcrabs absolutely infested a place, especially when used in shells as the Combine did. It was possible that this zombie had just happened to aimlessly shuffle in their direction all by its lonesome. It was even more likely that it was just the first of many and Merlin was being prevented from seeing them by the lack of light and the amount of trees. He lowered his pulse rifle. A few months ago Merlin would’ve taken the shot, but he was wary now of making too much noise and attracting unwanted attention.

Keeping an eye on his surroundings, Merlin carefully climbed down from the roof and went back inside. He crouched by Arthur. Merlin’s fingers had barely brushed his shoulder when Arthur jerked awake, a revolver in hand, cocked and ready to be used. After a moment his eyes focused on Merlin.

“Hey,” Merlin said, unfazed by the gun pointed at his face. “Thought you should know we might have a problem."

“Jesus fuck, Merlin,” Arthur said. He dropped the hand holding the revolver and scrubbed the other one over his face. “What do you mean we might have a problem?”

“Spotted a zombie heading our way. Still a ways off, but the main issue is I can’t tell if it brought any friends.”

"I'm just going to assume it did. Those things always seem to travel in packs." Arthur frowned. “Wait a minute. How did you know there’s a zombie coming our way?” He gave Merlin a once over, frown deepening as he took in the pulse rifle already in Merlin’s hands. “Where have you been?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Went up on the roof for some fresh air.”

“Went up on the- Merlin!”

“Oh spare me the lecture,” Merlin snapped. He was beyond tired of hearing from other people about how he had to be so careful now that he carried the ‘hope of humanity’ inside him. And Merlin understood that seeing proof that the Combine suppression field was down and procreation was once again possible was a huge moral booster, he really did. He just felt that a) everyone was blowing this way out of proportion- as if one baby was somehow going to singlehandedly save humanity from extinction- and b) they all really needed to mind their own damn business.

“I’m just worried-“

"Well stop being worried. I'm not helpless _or_ stupid, Arthur."

“Nobody’s been pregnant in twenty years,” Arthur reminded him. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"No shit. Now can we please focus on the problem at hand? You know, the zombies heading our way? I'm positive that's more important."

“Right,” Arthur agreed grudgingly. “The zombies.” He started pulling on his boots and checking to make sure they were all packed. “We’ll see if we can just sneak off deeper into the mountains without disturbing anything. Better to conserve our ammo-“

Merlin caught sight of movement right outside the window and said, “Too late,” right before a zombie roared and smashed through the glass. While Arthur swore violently and searched for where he’d set his revolver, Merlin dove for the couch and grabbed the USP Match he’d left within easy reach while he slept. He’d taken the handgun off a Civil Protection officer years ago, expecting a weapon given to what was essentially the lowest rung of the Combine military on Earth to be average at best. It had surprised him to find that the USP Match was a good weapon when handled correctly. _Correctly_ being the keyword. Merlin had made a point of learning the ins and outs of it. A USP Match wasn’t as powerful as his pulse rifle, but it would be enough to handle a zombie. As Arthur had said, it was best to conserve as much of their ammo as possible, since they were never sure when they would find another cache and overall his pulse rifle was the more valuable weapon.

Merlin took his time lining up his shot. Zombies had some intelligence, but it wasn't quite enough for the zombie to figure out that going through the window wasn’t working and perhaps it should try the door. Its head and arms were inside the cabin, flailing about. Two shots killed both the headcrab and the poor bastard whose head it had latched onto. It was then that Arthur finally found his revolver.

"You know, if not for me you would probably be dead by now," Merlin said. "I mean those are some abysmal reflexes you've got there."

"I haven't even been awake for five minutes," Arthur argued. Which, to be perfectly honest, was a fair point. It wasn't as if Merlin had any room to talk about coherency in the morning. “Let’s just get the hell out of here while we still can,” Arthur continued. “I don’t wanna find out if it brought friends.”

“Oh it brought friends,” Merlin said.

“What makes you say that?”

“That wasn’t the one I saw from the roof. That one was too far away to have gotten to the cabin this fast. Unless zombies have learned how to teleport, which seems unlikely. So that means there’s probably-” A screeching howl echoed through the trees. “-more. Great. That sounded like a fast zombie. Because that is _exactly_ what we need right now."

Fast zombie may have been an unoriginal moniker for the first of the two genetically modified variants of headcrabs, but it was accurate. Whereas a normal headcrab could make its victim do a fast shuffle at best, fast headcrabs made their victims into lean, agile zombies. They could climb buildings and leap across rooftops and closed long distances in quick bounds that brought them in for fast, furious swipes with their claws. Merlin had seen people flayed by fast zombies in a matter of seconds. Their quick, lean bodies and erratic movements made them hard targets to hit.

“Fuck’s sake,” Arthur complained, abandoning his pack and picking up his shotgun. “Can’t we go one day without things going to shit?”

“Look on the bright side,” Merlin said.

“Which is?”

“At least there are no-“

“Don’t say it.”

“-poison zombies.”

“Damn it, Merlin, I said don’t say it.”

“Why not?”

“Remember that saying? Anything bad that can happen, will happen?”

Multiple howls sounded through the woods. "Look, can we discuss this later?" Merlin asked. “I really don’t think now is the time.”

“Fine, but if one of those damn poison zombies shows up I’m blaming you,” Arthur said. He looked out through the broken window. “Well, it’s definitely too late to leave now. We’ll be better off staying inside.”

“They _can_ open doors,” Merlin felt the need to point out. “I mean they have to find one first which may take them a while, but I’ve definitely seen zombies open doors.”

“Yes, thank you for bringing that up right as a hoard of zombies is coming towards us.”

Merlin glanced out the window. “I don’t know if I’d call it a hoard. There’s maybe ten. Eleven if that fast zombie really does show up. Doesn’t seem much like a hoard to me.”

Arthur stared at him for a long moment before deciding not to answer that. “This cabin doesn’t have any electricity so that means no outside light to give us some visibility. What kind of light sources do we have?”

“Just flashlights. Here, tape one to your shotgun.” Merlin absently tossed a flashlight across the room, missing the way Arthur fumbled and almost dropped it. Almost immediately after, he threw their single roll of duct tape, narrowly missing Arthur’s head.

“Fuck! Merlin!”

“Sorry.”

“Does this even work?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like you’re spoiled for choice.” Merlin was barely paying attention to Arthur’s grumbling, more focused on getting his own gear in order. He glanced at his pulse rifle before deciding to stick with his handgun, grateful that both his weapons had tactical lights already attached. Turning it on, Merlin went to cover one of the windows. “What are zombies even doing out here?”

“What?” Arthur asked distractedly, busy winding duct tape around the flashlight and his shotgun with impressive speed.

“I said what are zombies even doing out here?”

“Existing?” Done with his hasty flashlight mount, Arthur positioned himself at another window. “Headcrabs have been infesting all kinds of places on Earth since they first started teleporting in after the Black Mesa Incident.”

“Yeah but there’s nothing out here,” Merlin insisted. “That’s why _we're_ out here, the isolation. Where did they even find anyone to attach to? Oh. Actually, I think I know where they came from.”

“Where?”

“City 17.”

“We’re getting pretty far away from the city.”

"We’re not that far from White Forest and White Forest isn't that far from the city. And I mean it's been four months. I'd be surprised if zombies weren't heading out of the city. It's not like there's anything for them there. Plus, look at their clothes." Merlin shined his tactical light on the nearest zombie. "That's a Civil Protection uniform. Where else would a zombie from the police force of City 17 have come from if not the city itself? The Combine bombed us pretty hard with headcrab shells to try and stop us from advancing on the Citadel, if you recall."

"Great," Arthur muttered.

They fell silent after that, mostly because their focus was on taking out zombies and not arguing. Merlin’s tactical light wasn’t doing as much for him as he would’ve liked. Visibility was still far lower than he was comfortable with. At least it was better than Arthur’s makeshift tactical light, which had detached after the fifth shot of his shotgun.

“Why do they always attack at night?” Arthur asked, quickly reattaching his flashlight. Merlin noted he was using twice as much duct tape as last time.

“They don’t always attack at night,” Merlin said. “They attack whenever they find something to attack. It’s just that at night it’s harder to spot them before they get close enough to be a threat.”

“I intended for that question to be rhetorical,” Arthur grumbled.

“Hey, it’s not like this is particularly hard. They’re slow and move pretty much in a straight line. It’s almost sad really. Now fast zombies, those would be a problem, but I’m not sure there are any out there after all. The forest might just have a weird echo or something." As soon as he’d said it, Merlin caught sight of a shadowy shape leaping from the trees to dash across the ground. “Son of a bitch!” he swore and lunged for his pulse rifle.

“What was that you were saying?” Arthur snapped, jerking his shotgun back up and pointing it at the quickly approaching shape. He fired, but judging by the amount of swearing and the fact that the fast zombie was still careening towards them, Merlin felt it was safe to assume that Arthur had missed.

“If this is how I die, Merlin, I’m blaming you,” Arthur said.

“Well, you’d be dead, so by definition you wouldn’t be around to blame anyone,” Merlin said. He flicked the tactical light of his pulse rifle on and tracked the fast zombie’s approach. They always made this disturbing snarling sound, like a raving beast gone mad with hunger, looking for the first thing to tear its claws into.

“I would definitely come back and haunt you,” Arthur said.

Merlin decided to ignore him in favor of putting all his focus on the fast zombie. He reminded himself the most important thing was to remain calm. Most people panicked when a fast zombie came at them. Merlin didn’t blame them. It was hard to resist the urge to try and take it down now before it got too close. But the zombie’s quick, unpredictable movements usually meant a lot of misses. It was better to wait until you had a more certain shot, but that meant letting the zombie get uncomfortably close. There was a very small margin of error for mistakes with this strategy. Merlin waited for that pause in the zombie’s movements, when it let out a shriek right before it leaped. He pulled the trigger and immediately ducked away from the window.

“Did I get it?” Merlin asked. “Is it dead?” Arthur leaned out the window, almost immediately ducking back inside when a zombie took a swipe at him. He blasted it before turning to Merlin.

“Yeah, you got it.” It was hard to make out his expression in the dark, but Merlin through Arthur might be gaping at him. “Holy shit Merlin.”

“Is that, ‘Holy shit Merlin you’re amazing for making that shot’ or, ‘Holy shit Merlin I can’t believe you were stupid enough to let it get that close to you’? Because I can’t really tell.”

“It’s both.”

“Well then next time _you_ take it out and I’ll just sit here and watch."

“Jesus, Merlin, normally I wouldn’t care! I acknowledge that you’re a good shot and you know what you’re doing, but have you forgotten that you’re pregnant? You need to be more careful!”

“Forgotten?” Merlin scoffed as he set his pulse rifle aside again and picked up his handgun to handle the rest of the zombies, hoping to god that was the only fast zombie they would have to deal with. “I wish I could forget! Did you know it moves? It _moves_ Arthur.” He took out two zombies in quick succession. “And then there’s all the aches and pains, especially my back, the fatigue, always being hungry, the emotional rollercoaster my hormones have been putting me through. I could go on.” Another zombie stumbled when Merlin’s shot hit its shoulder instead of its head, then dropped when Arthur shot it down. “Honestly I don’t know why anyone would ever be excited for this. So far it’s just been a giant pain in the ass.”

“And yet you’re still going through with it.”

“Listen, if there’s one thing in all the known universes that I hate more than anything it’s the Combine. If this weren’t going to be the first baby born in twenty years and I didn’t desperately want to spite the Combine by showing them that their plan to make the human race go extinct has utterly failed, I wouldn’t bother.”

“Maybe you’ll feel differently after it’s born,” Arthur suggested. He shot what looked to be the last zombie. “I think that’s all of them.”

“Really,” Merlin said flatly. “You think I’ll feel differently about pregnancy after spending hours in painful labor to squeeze an entire baby out of my vagina. And oh, let’s not forget the part where I could die.” He picked his pulse rifle back up and looked through the scope, carefully scanning the forest. “I don’t see any more zombies, but I also don’t see much of anything at all so.”

“I don’t hear anything unusual out there. I think we’re in the clear. And I’m not saying you _will_ feel differently, I’m saying you _might_ once you actually see the baby with your own eyes and hold it.”

“Right, because you’re such an expert.”

Arthur frowned. “On zombies or childbirth?”

“Take your pick.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur looked back out the window. “Well, I guess the coast is as clear as it’s gonna get. We should get going. No telling how many more zombies there might be in the area or if the Combine were close enough to hear all the commotion.” They packed up quickly and left the cabin with their guard up and weapons at the ready.

“You know,” Arthur began conversationally, “it’s times like this I almost miss City 17.”

“You miss being oppressed and slowly driven to extinction by a vast, cruel alien empire?” Merlin asked, eyebrows rising straight up to his hairline.

“Not that part,” Arthur corrected. “And I said _almost_. It’s just that in City 17 we had the resistance. There was a sense of predictability in that I knew where to find a safe place to sleep for the night, I didn’t have to worry about running out of food, and there was a whole network of people to watch my back. I miss that.”

“I miss not being pregnant,” Merlin said. “But here we are.”

Arthur sighed, exasperated. “You know what? I get it. You’re not a fan of being pregnant. Can I please have five minutes where you’re not whining about it?”

“Arthur, the day you have a uterus and have to experience everything that comes with it is the day you can talk. But since that day will never come I highly suggest you shut up before I strangle you like I’ve been dreaming of doing for the past four months. Besides, you’re half responsible for this. You and your… super sperm.”

“Super sperm?” Arthur repeated. “I- Do you hear that?” Arthur looked wildly around.

“Hear what?”

“Shh!”

Merlin frowned at being shushed, but obligingly remained silent.

“Sounds like… like Morgana’s snoring,” Arthur said. “Only super creepy.”

“You mean Morgana’s snoring _isn't_ super creepy? Because I always thought she sounded like a dying whale.” Whatever that meant. Merlin had never seen a whale, much less heard what one would sound like when dying. In fact, he was pretty sure there weren’t any whales left in the ocean, on account of it now being infested almost exclusively with carnivorous alien creatures. He’d heard Barney use the phrase a couple of times to describe unpleasant noises though and since Barney had been alive back when there were still whales in the ocean Merlin assumed he knew what he was talking about. He strained his ears, listening for this strange snoring sound.

“I don’t like this,” Arthur muttered.

“You’re about to like it a lot less,” Merlin said. Now that he’d noticed it, he could hear the weird snorting loud and clear. Like some kind of deranged pig. Again, Merlin didn’t have any personal experience with what pigs sounded like but apparently they were well known for snorting.

“Why?” Arthur asked suspiciously.

“Remember earlier? When I said that thing about a poison zombie and how at least we didn’t have to deal with one of those?”

“Oh god. Please no.”

“I could be wrong- in fact I hope I’m wrong- but the only time I have ever heard this exact sound is when a poison zombie is in the vicinity.”

“If we die I’m holding you personally responsible,” Arthur hissed. “I told you not to say it!” He froze and Merlin froze with him. “It stopped. Why did it stop? Fuck.”

The forest had grown eerily quiet. “Well, in my experience,” Merlin began, “that usually means we’ve moved closer to it.”

“So it’s noticed us? Damn it!”

“Maybe,” Merlin acknowledged. “Or maybe it spotted a bird or something. If we’re very careful we might be able to- DUCK!” Merlin threw himself out of the way and saw Arthur do the same just in time to dodge the screeching blob flying at them out of the trees. Rolling straight to his knees, Merlin tracked the rattling sound he knew a poison headcrab made and shot it three times. He had to resist the impulse to empty an entire magazine of pulse shots into it. “Run!” he yelled. “ _Run_!”

“Don’t you have some of those energy ball things?” Arthur demanded, scrambling up after him.

“Some of what? You mean charged pulses?”

“Yes! Those! Don’t you have some?”

“No! I used the last one to kill that hunter when Overwatch ambushed us three days ago!”

"But Overwatch soldiers carry pulse rifles! I saw you salvaging magazines from them! Why didn’t you grab any of those energy ball things!”

“Charged pulses! There weren’t any to salvage! Only Elite soldiers carry those and there weren’t any there!”

“So then what do we kill the poison zombie with!”

“I don’t know! That’s why we’re running!” The venom carried by a poison zombie was a death sentence without quick administration of an antidote, which they didn’t have. But poison zombies were also big, bloated, lumbering creatures, weighed down by the changes a poison headcrab brought on its victim as well as the additional poison headcrabs it carried on its back for hurling at things. He and Arthur could easily outrun one as long as-

 _Crack_. “Shit!”

Merlin skidded to a halt and looked back. Well, they could’ve easily outrun a poison zombie if Arthur hadn’t tripped over what had sounded like a tree root. Somewhere out there was a higher power intent on making Merlin’s life as difficult as possible and he did not at all appreciate it.

“Guess I’m doing this,” Merlin muttered to himself. “No big deal. Just kill a poison zombie. Without dying. Other people have done it.” At least, he was pretty sure other people had done it. He could turn tail and run. For a selfish moment Merlin actually considered it. But despite his current irritation with Arthur, he didn’t actually want him to die. So yes, he was definitely doing this.

A screech announced another poison headcrab just before it came flying at him. Merlin moved out of the way and watched it hit a tree a few feet behind him. He killed it quickly while it was still dazed, then turned to get an idea of the situation with the poison zombie. The beam of his tactical light fell on Arthur a short distance away, sprawled on the ground. Shambling towards him was the poison zombie.

“God damn it,” Merlin swore. He tightened his grip on his pulse rifle in an effort to stop his hands from shaking. Few things terrified him as much as poison zombies. The first time he’d encountered one was on that horrible night in Ravenholm when he was just a kid. He’d nearly died that night. Pure luck had saved him, as there’d been no guarantee that the antidote the medic had administered would work.

He took a deep breath. Calm. He needed to be calm. Or as close to it as he could get right now. Poison zombies were resilient, but they weren’t impervious to harm. First, Merlin picked off the two remaining headcrabs clinging to the zombie’s bloated body to make sure he wouldn’t be distracted by trying to dodge them. Then he took his first shot at the zombie. It roared and corrected its course so that it was now lumbering towards where Merlin was partially hidden behind a tree instead of Arthur, who was still lying on the ground, not even trying to crawl away the _moron_. Several more shots and the zombie went down. Merlin remained frozen where he was, eyes trained on the lump on the ground. Arthur had rolled onto his back and was sitting up to stare as well.

Arthur broke the tense silence in the forest with a tentative, “Is it dead? It’s not moving. That has to mean it’s dead, right?” Merlin ignored the rambling. Carefully, he crept closer. He’d once shot a zombie, assumed it was dead, and then had been taken completely by surprise when he went to walk past it and it reached out to snatch his leg. He would rather not experience that again. The zombie remained still as Merlin approached. When he was beside it, Merlin gently nudged it with the toe of his boot. Nothing. It was dead. But just to be sure, Merlin fired another shot into its head. Just to be sure.

“Definitely dead,” Merlin declared before sinking to the ground. “God I hate those things. And I hate you too.”

“Me?” Arthur sounded indignant. “What did I do?”

“You tripped! Who trips when they’re running from a god damn poison zombie!”

“It’s. _Dark_. I couldn’t see anything!” Arthur huffed. “At least I don’t seem to have hurt myself, if that’s any consolation.”

“It’s not. And if you had hurt yourself, I wouldn’t carry you.” Merlin turned back towards the cabin with a frown. He could hear a low hum in the distance. “Sounds like there’s a drop ship headed our way,” Merlin said. He didn’t feel panicked, just tired. He supposed he’d used up all his panic on zombies that night. “I guess that answers the question of whether or not the Combine heard the commotion at the cabin.”

“Could be a coincidence,” Arthur said, getting to his feet and retrieving his gear. Merlin snorted and stood as well.

“Right, because this whole thing just reeks of coincidence,” he said. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the zombies were part of their plan. It was probably the Combine who rounded them up and sent them our way.”

“Sounds like something they’d do,” Arthur agreed. “They must be running low on resources by now so why not take advantage of the overabundance of zombies.” He hoisted his pack a bit higher on his shoulders. “Come on. Any minute now this place will be swarming with Overwatch. We need to put as much distance between us and them as possible.” Arthur headed off into the woods. Merlin stayed a moment longer. There was a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach, a sense of hopelessness he’d been fighting for years to keep at bay and had been growing stronger lately.

Silhouetted against the midnight sky was the dark shape of a drop ship. It would be carrying at least half a dozen Combine Overwatch soldiers, maybe more. Another one would be close behind it, either carrying more soldiers or a pack of hunters. There was a part of Merlin that wanted to stand and fight their pursuers. Except that once they’d defeated this group there would be another one. There was always another one. The only way to survive was to keep running and hiding until either there was nowhere left or the Combine were defeated. It was exhausting.

Merlin turned away as the silhouette of the first drop ship was joined by another. He caught up with Arthur easily and together they went deeper into the forest. If they were lucky they would find a cave to take shelter in that hadn’t already been infested with alien wildlife. With the way their luck had been going though it didn’t seem likely. Either way, their brief respite from being hunted was over.


End file.
